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"bangladesh" poems
Afghanistan needs hellopoetry Albania needs hellopoetry Algeria needs hellopoetry Andorra needs hellopoetry Angola needs hellopoetry Antigua and Barbuda needs hellopoetry Argentina needs hellopoetry Armenia needs hellopoetry Australia needs hellopoetry Austria needs hellopoetry Azerbaijan needs hellopoetry The Bahamas needs hellopoetry Bahrain needs hellopoetry Bangladesh needs hellopoetry Barbados needs hellopoetry Belarus needs hellopoetry Belgium needs hellopoetry Belize needs hellopoetry Benin needs hellopoetry Bhutan needs hellopoetry Bolivia needs hellopoetry Bosnia and Herzegovina needs hellopoetry Botswana needs hellopoetry Brazil needs hellopoetry Brunei needs hellopoetry Bulgaria needs hellopoetry Burkina Faso needs hellopoetry Burundi needs hellopoetry Cabo Verde needs hellopoetry Cambodia needs hellopoetry Cameroon needs hellopoetry Canada needs hellopoetry Central African Republic needs hellopoetry Chad needs hellopoetry Chile needs hellopoetry China needs hellopoetry Colombia needs hellopoetry Comoros needs hellopoetry Congo, Democratic Republic is in need of hellopoetry Congo, Republic is in need of hellopoetry   Costa Rica needs hellopoetry Côte d’Ivoire needs hellopoetry Croatia needs hellopoetry Cuba needs hellopoetry Cyprus needs hellopoetry Czech Republic needs hellopoetry Denmark needs hellopoetry   Djibouti needs hellopoetry Dominica needs hellopoetry Dominican Republic needs hellopoetry East Timor (Timor-Leste) needs hellopoetry Ecuador needs hellopoetry Egypt needs hellopoetry   El Salvador needs hellopoetry Equatorial Guinea needs hellopoetry Eritrea needs hellopoetry Estonia needs hellopoetry Eswatini needs hellopoetry Ethiopia needs hellopoetry Fiji needs hellopoetry Finland needs hellopoetry France needs hellopoetry Gabon needs hellopoetry The Gambia needs hellopoetry Georgia needs hellopoetry Germany needs hellopoetry Ghana needs hellopoetry Greece needs hellopoetry Grenada needs hellopoetry Guatemala needs hellopoetry Guinea needs 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hellopoetry Malta needs hellopoetry Marshall Islands needs hellopoetry Mauritania needs hellopoetry Mauritius needs hellopoetry Mexico needs hellopoetry Micronesia, Federated States is in need of hellopoetry Moldova needs hellopoetry Monaco needs hellopoetry Mongolia needs hellopoetry Montenegro needs hellopoetry Morocco needs hellopoetry Mozambique needs hellopoetry Myanmar (Burma) needs hellopoetry Namibia needs hellopoetry Nauru needs hellopoetry Nepal needs hellopoetry Netherlands needs hellopoetry New Zealand needs hellopoetry Nicaragua needs hellopoetry Niger needs hellopoetry Nigeria needs hellopoetry North Macedonia needs hellopoetry Norway needs hellopoetry Oman needs hellopoetry Pakistan needs hellopoetry Palau needs hellopoetry Panama needs hellopoetry Papua New Guinea needs hellopoetry Paraguay needs hellopoetry Peru needs hellopoetry Philippines needs hellopoetry Poland needs hellopoetry Portugal needs hellopoetry Qatar needs hellopoetry Romania needs hellopoetry Russia needs hellopoetry Rwanda needs hellopoetry Saint Kitts and Nevis needs hellopoetry Saint Lucia needs hellopoetry Saint Vincent and the Grenadines needs hellopoetry Samoa needs hellopoetry San Marino needs hellopoetry Sao Tome and Principe needs hellopoetry Saudi Arabia needs hellopoetry Senegal needs hellopoetry Serbia needs hellopoetry Seychelles needs hellopoetry Sierra Leone needs hellopoetry Singapore needs hellopoetry Slovakia needs hellopoetry Slovenia needs hellopoetry Solomon Islands needs hellopoetry Somalia needs hellopoetry South Africa needs hellopoetry Spain needs hellopoetry Sri Lanka needs hellopoetry Sudan needs hellopoetry Sudan, South needs hellopoetry Suriname needs hellopoetry Sweden needs hellopoetry Switzerland needs hellopoetry Syria needs hellopoetry Taiwan needs hellopoetry Tajikistan needs hellopoetry Tanzania needs hellopoetry Thailand needs hellopoetry Togo needs hellopoetry Tonga needs hellopoetry Trinidad and Tobago needs hellopoetry Tunisia needs hellopoetry Turkey needs hellopoetry Turkmenistan needs hellopoetry Tuvalu needs hellopoetry Uganda needs hellopoetry Ukraine needs hellopoetry United Arab Emirates needs hellopoetry United Kingdom needs hellopoetry United States needs hellopoetry Uruguay needs hellopoetry Uzbekistan needs hellopoetry Vanuatu needs hellopoetry Vatican City needs hellopoetry Venezuela needs hellopoetry Vietnam needs hellopoetry Yemen needs hellopoetry Zambia needs hellopoetry Zimbabwe needs hellopoetry
0
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC
maxneumann
The World NEEDS HelloPoetry (Please Make A Contribution.)
Afghanistan needs hellopoetry Albania needs hellopoetry Algeria needs hellopoetry Andorra needs hellopoetry Angola needs hellopoetry Antigua and Barbuda needs hellopoetry Argentina needs hellopoetry Armenia needs hellopoetry Australia needs hellopoetry Austria needs hellopoetry Azerbaijan needs hellopoetry The Bahamas needs hellopoetry Bahrain needs hellopoetry Bangladesh needs hellopoetry Barbados needs hellopoetry Belarus needs hellopoetry Belgium needs hellopoetry Belize needs hellopoetry Benin needs hellopoetry Bhutan needs hellopoetry Bolivia needs hellopoetry Bosnia and Herzegovina needs hellopoetry Botswana needs hellopoetry Brazil needs hellopoetry Brunei needs hellopoetry Bulgaria needs hellopoetry Burkina Faso needs hellopoetry Burundi needs hellopoetry Cabo Verde needs hellopoetry Cambodia needs hellopoetry Cameroon needs hellopoetry Canada needs hellopoetry Central African Republic needs hellopoetry Chad needs hellopoetry Chile needs hellopoetry China needs hellopoetry Colombia needs hellopoetry Comoros needs hellopoetry Congo, Democratic Republic is in need of hellopoetry Congo, Republic is in need of hellopoetry   Costa Rica needs hellopoetry Côte d’Ivoire needs hellopoetry Croatia needs hellopoetry Cuba needs hellopoetry Cyprus needs hellopoetry Czech Republic needs hellopoetry Denmark needs hellopoetry   Djibouti needs hellopoetry Dominica needs hellopoetry Dominican Republic needs hellopoetry East Timor (Timor-Leste) needs hellopoetry Ecuador needs hellopoetry Egypt needs hellopoetry   El Salvador needs hellopoetry Equatorial Guinea needs hellopoetry Eritrea needs hellopoetry Estonia needs hellopoetry Eswatini needs hellopoetry Ethiopia needs hellopoetry Fiji needs hellopoetry Finland needs hellopoetry France needs hellopoetry Gabon needs hellopoetry The Gambia needs hellopoetry Georgia needs hellopoetry Germany needs hellopoetry Ghana needs hellopoetry Greece needs hellopoetry Grenada needs hellopoetry Guatemala needs hellopoetry Guinea needs hellopoetry Guinea-Bissau needs hellopoetry Guyana needs hellopoetry Haiti needs hellopoetry Honduras needs hellopoetry Hungary needs hellopoetry Iceland needs hellopoetry India needs hellopoetry Indonesia needs hellopoetry Iran needs hellopoetry Iraq needs hellopoetry Ireland needs hellopoetry Israel needs hellopoetry Italy needs hellopoetry Jamaica needs hellopoetry Japan needs hellopoetry Jordan needs hellopoetry Kazakhstan needs hellopoetry Kenya needs hellopoetry Kiribati needs hellopoetry Korea, North needs hellopoetry Korea, South needs hellopoetry Kosovo needs hellopoetry Kuwait needs hellopoetry Kyrgyzstan needs hellopoetry Laos needs hellopoetry Latvia needs hellopoetry Lebanon needs hellopoetry Lesotho needs hellopoetry Liberia needs hellopoetry Libya needs hellopoetry Liechtenstein needs hellopoetry Lithuania needs hellopoetry Luxembourg needs hellopoetry Madagascar needs hellopoetry Malawi needs hellopoetry Malaysia needs hellopoetry Maldives needs hellopoetry Mali needs hellopoetry Malta needs hellopoetry Marshall Islands needs hellopoetry Mauritania needs hellopoetry Mauritius needs hellopoetry Mexico needs hellopoetry Micronesia, Federated States is in need of hellopoetry Moldova needs hellopoetry Monaco needs hellopoetry Mongolia needs hellopoetry Montenegro needs hellopoetry Morocco needs hellopoetry Mozambique needs hellopoetry Myanmar (Burma) needs hellopoetry Namibia needs hellopoetry Nauru needs hellopoetry Nepal needs hellopoetry Netherlands needs hellopoetry New Zealand needs hellopoetry Nicaragua needs hellopoetry Niger needs hellopoetry Nigeria needs hellopoetry North Macedonia needs hellopoetry Norway needs hellopoetry Oman needs hellopoetry Pakistan needs hellopoetry Palau needs hellopoetry Panama needs hellopoetry Papua New Guinea needs hellopoetry Paraguay needs hellopoetry Peru needs hellopoetry Philippines needs hellopoetry Poland needs hellopoetry Portugal needs hellopoetry Qatar needs hellopoetry Romania needs hellopoetry Russia needs hellopoetry Rwanda needs hellopoetry Saint Kitts and Nevis needs hellopoetry Saint Lucia needs hellopoetry Saint Vincent and the Grenadines needs hellopoetry Samoa needs hellopoetry San Marino needs hellopoetry Sao Tome and Principe needs hellopoetry Saudi Arabia needs hellopoetry Senegal needs hellopoetry Serbia needs hellopoetry Seychelles needs hellopoetry Sierra Leone needs hellopoetry Singapore needs hellopoetry Slovakia needs hellopoetry Slovenia needs hellopoetry Solomon Islands needs hellopoetry Somalia needs hellopoetry South Africa needs hellopoetry Spain needs hellopoetry Sri Lanka needs hellopoetry Sudan needs hellopoetry Sudan, South needs hellopoetry Suriname needs hellopoetry Sweden needs hellopoetry Switzerland needs hellopoetry Syria needs hellopoetry Taiwan needs hellopoetry Tajikistan needs hellopoetry Tanzania needs hellopoetry Thailand needs hellopoetry Togo needs hellopoetry Tonga needs hellopoetry Trinidad and Tobago needs hellopoetry Tunisia needs hellopoetry Turkey needs hellopoetry Turkmenistan needs hellopoetry Tuvalu needs hellopoetry Uganda needs hellopoetry Ukraine needs hellopoetry United Arab Emirates needs hellopoetry United Kingdom needs hellopoetry United States needs hellopoetry Uruguay needs hellopoetry Uzbekistan needs hellopoetry Vanuatu needs hellopoetry Vatican City needs hellopoetry Venezuela needs hellopoetry Vietnam needs hellopoetry Yemen needs hellopoetry Zambia needs hellopoetry Zimbabwe needs hellopoetry
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196
Laced with ribbons of moonlight Bangladesh a touched dream at first light. Land of my father, my mother sweeter than nectar. Purer than the driven snow brighter than raw gold. Gazing stars’ bumped up bottom down the untouched moon. Men and the six seasons living in one loving fold our one fertile sweet home! O Allah rank our martyrs our heroes up high in paradise in bloom brought Bangladesh freedom abloom! Punters cumulus clouds fly eyes on the sky blue   on a spur hanging low tune into wild coo. Picture independent Bangladesh step in on the morning rug rolls out outside the sun walk through, the moon is inside! Bask in, take your time when the twilight adds a shadow the beauty spot on your broad daylight escape to more serendipitous discovery. Eye on the stars or tuberoses on the ground our free land is inspiring, beautiful even in the dark. Laughs free from a tulip glass   across the land, air and the water upon the reed flute stirred river flowing downstream to the hilt from a deep-delved foundation out of reach her raised high flag flies over the pivotal banyan trees. Every flap of our ‘the sun in the green’ shaped flag, the light of heaven on the evergreen earth! Ah, sways in the chalice of every flower on the land cheers beyond the warm South whispers to our hearts and makes us feel proud.
0
Mar 1, 2022
Mar 1, 2022 at 10:14 PM UTC
shofi-ahmed
Independent Bangladesh
Laced with ribbons of moonlight Bangladesh a touched dream at first light. Land of my father, my mother sweeter than nectar. Purer than the driven snow brighter than raw gold. Gazing stars’ bumped up bottom down the untouched moon. Men and the six seasons living in one loving fold our one fertile sweet home! O Allah rank our martyrs our heroes up high in paradise in bloom brought Bangladesh freedom abloom! Punters cumulus clouds fly eyes on the sky blue   on a spur hanging low tune into wild coo. Picture independent Bangladesh step in on the morning rug rolls out outside the sun walk through, the moon is inside! Bask in, take your time when the twilight adds a shadow the beauty spot on your broad daylight escape to more serendipitous discovery. Eye on the stars or tuberoses on the ground our free land is inspiring, beautiful even in the dark. Laughs free from a tulip glass   across the land, air and the water upon the reed flute stirred river flowing downstream to the hilt from a deep-delved foundation out of reach her raised high flag flies over the pivotal banyan trees. Every flap of our ‘the sun in the green’ shaped flag, the light of heaven on the evergreen earth! Ah, sways in the chalice of every flower on the land cheers beyond the warm South whispers to our hearts and makes us feel proud.
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39
"Son can you play me a memory I'm not really sure how it goes But it's sad and it's sweet And I knew it complete When I wore a younger man's clothes" Billy Joel lyrics from "Piano Man"* ~~~~~~~~~~~~ when I was very young I wore Levi jeans and white Hanes cotton T shirts my mother bot me, my feet, Ked clad, red from the kid's "department" store on Central Avenue, the Main Street of my small town when I was a young lad, I wore workingman's cargo jeans and white Hanes cotton T shirts under red plaid wooly shirts, itchy affairs, that I bot for myself in a real Army Navy store, desert colored suede boots, laced up high, upon my feet when I was of middling years, my jeans were khaki pants, Gap supplied, and my Gap T shirts, faded like me, a non-descript color, made in a gap of pale pastel colors from Bangladesh or Vietnam, pale pastel, like me so as I slide~decline into my nursing home years, I wear unbranded jeans and white cotton no name T shirts with matching white disposable slippers, that the Purchasing Department bot for me, cause they know, I like, a younger man's clothes and the memories that play all day lost in day dreaming of a life well dressed 2:01am
0
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC
poetoftheway
A younger man's clothes
"Son can you play me a memory I'm not really sure how it goes But it's sad and it's sweet And I knew it complete When I wore a younger man's clothes" Billy Joel lyrics from "Piano Man"* ~~~~~~~~~~~~ when I was very young I wore Levi jeans and white Hanes cotton T shirts my mother bot me, my feet, Ked clad, red from the kid's "department" store on Central Avenue, the Main Street of my small town when I was a young lad, I wore workingman's cargo jeans and white Hanes cotton T shirts under red plaid wooly shirts, itchy affairs, that I bot for myself in a real Army Navy store, desert colored suede boots, laced up high, upon my feet when I was of middling years, my jeans were khaki pants, Gap supplied, and my Gap T shirts, faded like me, a non-descript color, made in a gap of pale pastel colors from Bangladesh or Vietnam, pale pastel, like me so as I slide~decline into my nursing home years, I wear unbranded jeans and white cotton no name T shirts with matching white disposable slippers, that the Purchasing Department bot for me, cause they know, I like, a younger man's clothes and the memories that play all day lost in day dreaming of a life well dressed 2:01am
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48
Pleasure enclosed noon on a table A magnolia-soul from opposite chair Puts on elegant dress Like a blooming melody dancing on. Bonsai is a living image of endless dream I've ever seen a person how far delighted Simple, extremely white portrait of life So pretty and so the finest never have I ever seen. Billions of small bells are refraining from entering the dark room And I'm returning back towards a window Through which a large a4 navy-blue sky is smiling. Poem 03 Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007 Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh ISBN 984-8700-82-X
0
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 2:29 PM UTC
ashraful-musaddeq
[01] Bonsai
Pleasure enclosed noon on a table A magnolia-soul from opposite chair Puts on elegant dress Like a blooming melody dancing on. Bonsai is a living image of endless dream I've ever seen a person how far delighted Simple, extremely white portrait of life So pretty and so the finest never have I ever seen. Billions of small bells are refraining from entering the dark room And I'm returning back towards a window Through which a large a4 navy-blue sky is smiling. Poem 03 Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007 Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh ISBN 984-8700-82-X
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18
clinton rebukes israel over east jerusalem homes obama nasa plans catastrophic say moon astronauts alaska wolves **** woman's teacher out jogging ireland frees 3 cartoonist plot suspects sarkozy and brown attack u.s. over protectionism pope benedict's former diocese rehoused abuser priest chile puts quake damage at $30bn winnie denies interview criticizing nelson mandela climate change makes birds shrink in north america dr rowan williams is honored for work on russia weymouth ridgeway skeletons scandinavian vikings live bangladesh v england michael schumacher pledges to raise game in bahrain can the u.s. vice-president broker middle east peace? sarkozy's party faces socialist drubbing remote indian state set for development new york dust victims split on 9/11 deal german tells of childhood abuse by catholic priest a step closer to the american dream? lehman: how $50bn was buried in london ba strike union announces dates in march china's oil demand increase astonishing says iea china warns google to comply with censorship laws net clash for web police projects hsbc admits huge swiss bank data theft phil spector ****** conviction appealed sir david jason to voice cbbc animation climate change 'makes birds shrink' in north america thalidomide effect mystery solved blood pressure fluctuations warning sign for stroke winnie denies interview criticizing nelson mandela mogadishu residents told to leave somali capital same-sex couples marry in mexico city by mistake i clicked on wrong button and lost everything
0
Mar 12, 2010
Mar 12, 2010 at 6:59 PM UTC
michael-reid-rubenstein
**** blue jesus
clinton rebukes israel over east jerusalem homes obama nasa plans catastrophic say moon astronauts alaska wolves **** woman's teacher out jogging ireland frees 3 cartoonist plot suspects sarkozy and brown attack u.s. over protectionism pope benedict's former diocese rehoused abuser priest chile puts quake damage at $30bn winnie denies interview criticizing nelson mandela climate change makes birds shrink in north america dr rowan williams is honored for work on russia weymouth ridgeway skeletons scandinavian vikings live bangladesh v england michael schumacher pledges to raise game in bahrain can the u.s. vice-president broker middle east peace? sarkozy's party faces socialist drubbing remote indian state set for development new york dust victims split on 9/11 deal german tells of childhood abuse by catholic priest a step closer to the american dream? lehman: how $50bn was buried in london ba strike union announces dates in march china's oil demand increase astonishing says iea china warns google to comply with censorship laws net clash for web police projects hsbc admits huge swiss bank data theft phil spector ****** conviction appealed sir david jason to voice cbbc animation climate change 'makes birds shrink' in north america thalidomide effect mystery solved blood pressure fluctuations warning sign for stroke winnie denies interview criticizing nelson mandela mogadishu residents told to leave somali capital same-sex couples marry in mexico city by mistake i clicked on wrong button and lost everything
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1
We are the stars that you ignore in search for brighter lights to guide you home Safe and warm and ignorant you stay We were the children born from orchids, into a meadow and our lives have dried up, weeds thriving on our desperate longing for home The only music we hear are the sounds of death: gunshots and screams the genre that only people who have a warm smile to come home to can listen to at a music store We are the people of Palestine, Syria, Egypt, Libya, The Congo, Haiti, India, Bangladesh, North Korea The diaspora who no longer have roots anywhere on earth we have been dug up and shat out by the soil that we sprung from Our kin have scratched blood from our skin We are the forgotten, the avoidees, the people who make you uncomfortable who force you to leave your little world so painstakingly built for you to live in and die as a result of Go, live the lives you were destined for while we dream of them Go, have the freedom you think you have and we think we will get We are goldfish in a bowl that has never been cleaned We will never escape
0
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 2:52 PM UTC
mishka
Rants
We are the stars that you ignore in search for brighter lights to guide you home Safe and warm and ignorant you stay We were the children born from orchids, into a meadow and our lives have dried up, weeds thriving on our desperate longing for home The only music we hear are the sounds of death: gunshots and screams the genre that only people who have a warm smile to come home to can listen to at a music store We are the people of Palestine, Syria, Egypt, Libya, The Congo, Haiti, India, Bangladesh, North Korea The diaspora who no longer have roots anywhere on earth we have been dug up and shat out by the soil that we sprung from Our kin have scratched blood from our skin We are the forgotten, the avoidees, the people who make you uncomfortable who force you to leave your little world so painstakingly built for you to live in and die as a result of Go, live the lives you were destined for while we dream of them Go, have the freedom you think you have and we think we will get We are goldfish in a bowl that has never been cleaned We will never escape
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16
In a creche,behind the mesh in Zanzibar or Bangladesh,kids are reigned in,chained up,emptied of the loving cup that childhood gives, who lives like this so they can miss the fun of being young? who sticks the chiv in,trims the day,who works them for so little pay? Look in your high street shops at hopscotch clothes from hopscotch kids in hopscotch homes, on the skids and before you buy,before you try on one more suit born from some child's unlived youth,the truth is out there in the things you buy,'cry freedom'in your cheap t-shirts and cut price flowing patterned skirts,but the truth remains and stains your heart as sure as if you were a part of sweatshops sweating out the lives of tiny tots and will high street shops, always be the outlets for this insanity? I'm sure the answer will arrive eventually.
0
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 1:07 AM UTC
john-edward-smallshaw
Playtime in Panama.
In a creche,behind the mesh in Zanzibar or Bangladesh,kids are reigned in,chained up,emptied of the loving cup that childhood gives, who lives like this so they can miss the fun of being young? who sticks the chiv in,trims the day,who works them for so little pay? Look in your high street shops at hopscotch clothes from hopscotch kids in hopscotch homes, on the skids and before you buy,before you try on one more suit born from some child's unlived youth,the truth is out there in the things you buy,'cry freedom'in your cheap t-shirts and cut price flowing patterned skirts,but the truth remains and stains your heart as sure as if you were a part of sweatshops sweating out the lives of tiny tots and will high street shops, always be the outlets for this insanity? I'm sure the answer will arrive eventually.
Continue reading...
7
A yellowish time was walking alone On the Hare Road in the rainy afternoon. Is it time to discuss with coffee or ice-cream holding the hand like a band Touching the sorrows before putting coins into the evening's folder? It's time to slice time thinner and thicker Processing pickles on the dissection table With likings-hates, joys-sorrows, dreams-realities before the evening flirts afternoon! Going ahead or coming back or even standing a while Which one is the worthless best I don't like to know? A small seed of wrongful dream germinates mutely From infinity and going to the end of infinity! Never have I seen any time walking Nor have I seen any rainy afternoon at Hare Road! Poem 17 Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007 Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh ISBN 984-8700-82-X
0
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 8:09 AM UTC
ashraful-musaddeq
[01] Hare Road
A yellowish time was walking alone On the Hare Road in the rainy afternoon. Is it time to discuss with coffee or ice-cream holding the hand like a band Touching the sorrows before putting coins into the evening's folder? It's time to slice time thinner and thicker Processing pickles on the dissection table With likings-hates, joys-sorrows, dreams-realities before the evening flirts afternoon! Going ahead or coming back or even standing a while Which one is the worthless best I don't like to know? A small seed of wrongful dream germinates mutely From infinity and going to the end of infinity! Never have I seen any time walking Nor have I seen any rainy afternoon at Hare Road! Poem 17 Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007 Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh ISBN 984-8700-82-X
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21
We put on snow-white dress and camouflage blacks inside Best friend is the worst enemy of man! Leaving with a lot of do's and don'ts; Deformed envious man pluck blooming flowers to pollute the blue sky! Though viruses fly around like fern spores How orchids can bloom without care? Poem 24 Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007 Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh ISBN 984-8700-82-X
0
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 12:43 PM UTC
ashraful-musaddeq
[01] Man
We put on snow-white dress and camouflage blacks inside Best friend is the worst enemy of man! Leaving with a lot of do's and don'ts; Deformed envious man pluck blooming flowers to pollute the blue sky! Though viruses fly around like fern spores How orchids can bloom without care? Poem 24 Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007 Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh ISBN 984-8700-82-X
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13
Am I really complex Like the reticulate venation of a leaf? An abstract art on the wall? Why face can't be read, why? Should I promise to be an ice-cream melting upon tongue? Truth may looses uniform and puts on the fake costume But I'm a shade of 3bs: bell, butterfly and bonsai! Poem 19 Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007 Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh ISBN 984-8700-82-X
0
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 8:11 AM UTC
ashraful-musaddeq
[01] I Am
Am I really complex Like the reticulate venation of a leaf? An abstract art on the wall? Why face can't be read, why? Should I promise to be an ice-cream melting upon tongue? Truth may looses uniform and puts on the fake costume But I'm a shade of 3bs: bell, butterfly and bonsai! Poem 19 Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007 Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh ISBN 984-8700-82-X
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15
Beautiful Bangladesh naturally is pretty cute on second thought is a masterstroke. You gotta see it to believe how stunning it looks as if the sunrise rendered a beauty spot gladly put it on the morning rose! Pop into a country of mass people you could be walking down the singing birds hanging low nearby our princely open doors. Every one of us knows in the heart we are sitting on a land of pure gold! Should you bask in at the crack of dawn as the crackling light of heaven stumbles upon follow the first light that gives you your cue! Besides the world's ********* Aladdin's three wishes came true: the longest beach the biggest tea gardens and mangrove forest, in Cox's Bazar, Sylhet and Sundarbans. Take your peep eye on in every direction ah, moments await you on both sides of the pool! Vividly mesmerising the Bengal of Gold, a narrative in words can't always be told. Sometimes it's said with whispers of old in the shade of bamboo when that flute is heard expect it to be carried to you by the frost-kissed air! Hang onto your cameras even though you walked passed the twilight in scenic Bandarban seen the sunset in Kuakata is de ja vu ambling down this nook you might feel walking one step down beneath the Moon!
0
Jan 9, 2020
Jan 9, 2020 at 5:07 PM UTC
shofi-ahmed
Bangladesh A Land of Pure Gold
Beautiful Bangladesh naturally is pretty cute on second thought is a masterstroke. You gotta see it to believe how stunning it looks as if the sunrise rendered a beauty spot gladly put it on the morning rose! Pop into a country of mass people you could be walking down the singing birds hanging low nearby our princely open doors. Every one of us knows in the heart we are sitting on a land of pure gold! Should you bask in at the crack of dawn as the crackling light of heaven stumbles upon follow the first light that gives you your cue! Besides the world's ********* Aladdin's three wishes came true: the longest beach the biggest tea gardens and mangrove forest, in Cox's Bazar, Sylhet and Sundarbans. Take your peep eye on in every direction ah, moments await you on both sides of the pool! Vividly mesmerising the Bengal of Gold, a narrative in words can't always be told. Sometimes it's said with whispers of old in the shade of bamboo when that flute is heard expect it to be carried to you by the frost-kissed air! Hang onto your cameras even though you walked passed the twilight in scenic Bandarban seen the sunset in Kuakata is de ja vu ambling down this nook you might feel walking one step down beneath the Moon!
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28
Teen model Shonali Khatun strutted the catwalk as the audience cheered at a fashion show in Bangladesh's capital. But Shonali is no ordinary model, and this was no ordinary show. She and the 14 other models are survivors of acid attacks, common in this south Asian country, where spurned lovers or disgruntled family members sometimes resort to hurling skin-burning acid at their victims. The fashion show, held Tuesday night in Dhaka and attended by fashion lovers, rights activists and diplomats including the US ambassador to Bangladesh, aimed to redefine the notion of beauty while calling attention to the menace of such attacks. For 14-year-old Shonali, the event was nothing short of empowering. She was attacked just days after she was born amid a property dispute involving her parents, and was left with burn scars on her face and arms. She spent nearly three years in a hospital and underwent eight operations. Her attacker has never been caught. "I am so happy to be here," she said. "One day I want to be a physician." The models, including three men, walked the catwalk, dancing and singing and showcasing woven handloom Bangladeshi designs. The show was choreographed by local designer Bibi Russel. Organisers said they hoped to highlight the fact that acid victims, too often overlooked, are a vital part of society. They deliberately chose to hold the event on the eve of International Women's Day. "We are here today to show their inner strength, as they have come a long way," said Farah Kabir, country director of ActionAid Bangladesh, which organised the show. "I often take inspiration from them. Their courage is huge." Bangladesh has struggled to deal with acid attacks in recent decades, and has instituted harsh punishments for the perpetrators, including the death penalty. The country has also trained doctors to treat such sensitive cases and attempted to control the sale of acid, but has failed to eliminate the scourge entirely. In 2016, some 44 people were attacked with acid in Bangladesh - an annual number that has remained relatively stable. "I am ashamed of having such things in the country," Kabir said. "Unfortunately, in Bangladesh we do have acid victims because of either gender discrimination or violence, or because of greed. And we want to remind everyone the kind of injustice that has been meted out to them."Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
0
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 8:57 PM UTC
judy-smith
Bangladeshi fashion show sees acid attack victims take to the catwalk
Teen model Shonali Khatun strutted the catwalk as the audience cheered at a fashion show in Bangladesh's capital. But Shonali is no ordinary model, and this was no ordinary show. She and the 14 other models are survivors of acid attacks, common in this south Asian country, where spurned lovers or disgruntled family members sometimes resort to hurling skin-burning acid at their victims. The fashion show, held Tuesday night in Dhaka and attended by fashion lovers, rights activists and diplomats including the US ambassador to Bangladesh, aimed to redefine the notion of beauty while calling attention to the menace of such attacks. For 14-year-old Shonali, the event was nothing short of empowering. She was attacked just days after she was born amid a property dispute involving her parents, and was left with burn scars on her face and arms. She spent nearly three years in a hospital and underwent eight operations. Her attacker has never been caught. "I am so happy to be here," she said. "One day I want to be a physician." The models, including three men, walked the catwalk, dancing and singing and showcasing woven handloom Bangladeshi designs. The show was choreographed by local designer Bibi Russel. Organisers said they hoped to highlight the fact that acid victims, too often overlooked, are a vital part of society. They deliberately chose to hold the event on the eve of International Women's Day. "We are here today to show their inner strength, as they have come a long way," said Farah Kabir, country director of ActionAid Bangladesh, which organised the show. "I often take inspiration from them. Their courage is huge." Bangladesh has struggled to deal with acid attacks in recent decades, and has instituted harsh punishments for the perpetrators, including the death penalty. The country has also trained doctors to treat such sensitive cases and attempted to control the sale of acid, but has failed to eliminate the scourge entirely. In 2016, some 44 people were attacked with acid in Bangladesh - an annual number that has remained relatively stable. "I am ashamed of having such things in the country," Kabir said. "Unfortunately, in Bangladesh we do have acid victims because of either gender discrimination or violence, or because of greed. And we want to remind everyone the kind of injustice that has been meted out to them."Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
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12
Take this metal car and plane And give me a camel or a horse Take these four walls I want to trade them In for a tent I will pitch it at the bottom of the Mountains On the banks of Barada That runs through Damascus Or the shores of Tigris That binds Turkey and Iraq In the suburbs of Amman Amongst the unique contrast Of old and new Or the deserts of Arabia The unknown regions of Yemen Maybe on the slopes of the pyramids In the oasis of Libya The valleys of Kashmir On the beaches of Zanzibar I'll trade in the can of pop For coconut water Or thirst quenching Organic blends of fruit juice That I will hand pick Straight from the trees Sleep to the lullaby Of rain and birds In a tree house In Kuala Lumpur Awake to the **** a doodle doo Of a rooster In Bangladesh Then go and collect The eggs from the hens I'll trade these windows For a panoramic view Technology and social networks For loyalty and love Go back to simple living Be friends with the earth
0
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 9:39 AM UTC
simpleton
Trade
Take this metal car and plane And give me a camel or a horse Take these four walls I want to trade them In for a tent I will pitch it at the bottom of the Mountains On the banks of Barada That runs through Damascus Or the shores of Tigris That binds Turkey and Iraq In the suburbs of Amman Amongst the unique contrast Of old and new Or the deserts of Arabia The unknown regions of Yemen Maybe on the slopes of the pyramids In the oasis of Libya The valleys of Kashmir On the beaches of Zanzibar I'll trade in the can of pop For coconut water Or thirst quenching Organic blends of fruit juice That I will hand pick Straight from the trees Sleep to the lullaby Of rain and birds In a tree house In Kuala Lumpur Awake to the **** a doodle doo Of a rooster In Bangladesh Then go and collect The eggs from the hens I'll trade these windows For a panoramic view Technology and social networks For loyalty and love Go back to simple living Be friends with the earth
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41
‘Hah-ha-heh-he-hoh-ho' is a legend A classic drug of wiping up yesterdays. I settled to clean a virus before closing eyes Like a duel core machine with latest software. A bell rang my welfare on the upset table While noon laughed and I didn't see anything. I on that Thursday perceived a camouflage Of Bonsai putting on master-blue wings. Poem 04 Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007 Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh ISBN 984-8700-82-X
0
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 2:29 PM UTC
ashraful-musaddeq
[01] Camouflage
‘Hah-ha-heh-he-hoh-ho' is a legend A classic drug of wiping up yesterdays. I settled to clean a virus before closing eyes Like a duel core machine with latest software. A bell rang my welfare on the upset table While noon laughed and I didn't see anything. I on that Thursday perceived a camouflage Of Bonsai putting on master-blue wings. Poem 04 Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007 Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh ISBN 984-8700-82-X
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13
During discussion with key-board through internet messenger, Love sleeps on the bench like a pet beside the purple-green footpath. Sharing violet feelings via e-mail, million megabytes of stamina downloads And converts instantly smiling-heart into jpg format to attach with the mail. Cyber love navigates on cool wave as a kite walking slowly On the bluish velvet sky above a land of beckoning jade-dreams. Poem 07 Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007 Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh ISBN 984-8700-82-X
0
Aug 16, 2012
Aug 16, 2012 at 1:58 AM UTC
ashraful-musaddeq
[01] Cyber Love
During discussion with key-board through internet messenger, Love sleeps on the bench like a pet beside the purple-green footpath. Sharing violet feelings via e-mail, million megabytes of stamina downloads And converts instantly smiling-heart into jpg format to attach with the mail. Cyber love navigates on cool wave as a kite walking slowly On the bluish velvet sky above a land of beckoning jade-dreams. Poem 07 Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007 Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh ISBN 984-8700-82-X
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17
Time, I found you, sky was clear blue… Lake-fish plays, sunny summer days, Flowers of Spring, brown guitar string Ease our hearts, playing own parts… Lonely wooden bench, narrow little trench Save us for sure from being so impure, All the way down, white long gown Makes you my bride, tomato sun dried… Micro-oven hot, tequila double shot Nothing else matters, whoever scatters, Only you & me, floating on the sea Watching our sky, ready to full-fly… So many days, we’ll remain always Both of us care with faithful share Wish to be there, lowest depth layer Seems flatland, the life we planned…   You are my girl, precious hidden pearl Love you always; bird in the cage If you ever feel, stay there until, Ever free you are, to fly forever … But be ever sure, what you endure Goes truly wrong or misread song! Betrayer is better than wrong mind setter, Love’s always new, can avail only few!… Wish you my dear, nothing to fear You’ll find me, in middle of the sea, In troubled rainy day, I must say I’m here with you, a friend so true… Look up the sky, white clouds dry Amid the Blue, only me & you Will remain forever, ever & ever I’ll love you, Honey days are still sunny…    ~ Anwar Parvez Shishir ~ Dhaka Bangladesh 15/JUNE/2014/Sunday
0
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
anwar-parvez-shishir
The Wish Sky
Time, I found you, sky was clear blue… Lake-fish plays, sunny summer days, Flowers of Spring, brown guitar string Ease our hearts, playing own parts… Lonely wooden bench, narrow little trench Save us for sure from being so impure, All the way down, white long gown Makes you my bride, tomato sun dried… Micro-oven hot, tequila double shot Nothing else matters, whoever scatters, Only you & me, floating on the sea Watching our sky, ready to full-fly… So many days, we’ll remain always Both of us care with faithful share Wish to be there, lowest depth layer Seems flatland, the life we planned…   You are my girl, precious hidden pearl Love you always; bird in the cage If you ever feel, stay there until, Ever free you are, to fly forever … But be ever sure, what you endure Goes truly wrong or misread song! Betrayer is better than wrong mind setter, Love’s always new, can avail only few!… Wish you my dear, nothing to fear You’ll find me, in middle of the sea, In troubled rainy day, I must say I’m here with you, a friend so true… Look up the sky, white clouds dry Amid the Blue, only me & you Will remain forever, ever & ever I’ll love you, Honey days are still sunny…    ~ Anwar Parvez Shishir ~ Dhaka Bangladesh 15/JUNE/2014/Sunday
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35
*Inspiration pretty much finds you even when you walk outside to await the newspaper.* A summer poem for a winter's day. ___ morning slow sleep walking, reviewing my evening sleep attire, am I appropriately dressed, to publicly receive the somber weekend Wall Street Journal? which is hopefully waiting for my rational embrace where the driveway meets the road. as I walk,  I note the: seamed stitching on my shirt, a series of crisscrossed stitches, pattern of acute angles stitched in Thailand, or perhaps Bangladesh, and when machined, did the seamstress dream that with a single blink, dream metamorphosis stitches become crisscrossed out entries in the diary, that I don't keep, the notations naked and rendered, I don't want you to know about, so scratched into oblivion but in a orderly fashion before spilling them freely to any misfortunate innocent Joe, nice enough to ask me, how ya doing... impatiently waiting on a country road for recycled newsprint impressed into the service of the Canadian Pulp Navy a paper mache arrival overdue via a technology of delivery some what quaint, a photo dated impish young boy upon bicycle, with angel wings who when he passes, winks at me, seeing my impatience, (his cheek delighting my cheeks!) and with robust throw, salutes, Mission Accomplished. as I wait the muses attack, a formation of no-see-ums insects bite ruminations brain-inserted war correspondents now embedded, a fifth column to betray me and I wonder about: newspaper printed words stale seconds before they are writ, which makes think about time, about making plans, to do lists, about how fast my coffee cools, about how slow my skin colors, About the first time I put words about doubt & certainty on paper summoning up the courage to look foolish and how great it felt, at the time. **I fresh slap realize these "poems" are my diary,** so for the record, let it be duly recorded, the paperboy delivers to me the New York Times, in error, a cosmic sign that this is where this deuce minute walk into the mind of a gnat, should randomly end, and be crisscrossed into oblivion. summer 2012
0
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 12:16 PM UTC
nat-lipstadt
A two minute walk in my mind
*Inspiration pretty much finds you even when you walk outside to await the newspaper.* A summer poem for a winter's day. ___ morning slow sleep walking, reviewing my evening sleep attire, am I appropriately dressed, to publicly receive the somber weekend Wall Street Journal? which is hopefully waiting for my rational embrace where the driveway meets the road. as I walk,  I note the: seamed stitching on my shirt, a series of crisscrossed stitches, pattern of acute angles stitched in Thailand, or perhaps Bangladesh, and when machined, did the seamstress dream that with a single blink, dream metamorphosis stitches become crisscrossed out entries in the diary, that I don't keep, the notations naked and rendered, I don't want you to know about, so scratched into oblivion but in a orderly fashion before spilling them freely to any misfortunate innocent Joe, nice enough to ask me, how ya doing... impatiently waiting on a country road for recycled newsprint impressed into the service of the Canadian Pulp Navy a paper mache arrival overdue via a technology of delivery some what quaint, a photo dated impish young boy upon bicycle, with angel wings who when he passes, winks at me, seeing my impatience, (his cheek delighting my cheeks!) and with robust throw, salutes, Mission Accomplished. as I wait the muses attack, a formation of no-see-ums insects bite ruminations brain-inserted war correspondents now embedded, a fifth column to betray me and I wonder about: newspaper printed words stale seconds before they are writ, which makes think about time, about making plans, to do lists, about how fast my coffee cools, about how slow my skin colors, About the first time I put words about doubt & certainty on paper summoning up the courage to look foolish and how great it felt, at the time. **I fresh slap realize these "poems" are my diary,** so for the record, let it be duly recorded, the paperboy delivers to me the New York Times, in error, a cosmic sign that this is where this deuce minute walk into the mind of a gnat, should randomly end, and be crisscrossed into oblivion. summer 2012
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98
O Ganga! You flow Across the mighty Mountains O your youthful Playful force Making its way Through the Ancient boulders Stream after stream Joins you To find its destiny Happily In your depths To make you O the vast Ganga we know The Aryans found their Abode on your banks You saw the rise of Jainism And Buddhism O civilization Not only flourished But flowered On your banks! You've seen it all! You travel down the Tehri dam Across Rishikesh And Haridwar From the cow's mouth O the Gomukh Where your mother Glacier Gangotri rests! You enter the plains Having crisscrossed Roads many And lives Of many a being Who consider you As mother Worship you You bear their brunt also Carrying heaps of Garbage You flow Kanpur You see tanneries And many more You nourish them Keep them running But they end up Slowing your run You reach Allahabad What's in a name A tryst of cultures O you have the Gangs Jamuni doab And Gangs jamuni tehzeeb! Your sisters join you And here at Prayag You have Yamuna with you O a mythical sister Saraswati does find here way to you They say Life goes on on your ghats As usual People washing clothes Themselves And people offering Flowers and performing Rituals on your banks O all but consider you As an earthly mother A heavenly gift Just like Saraswati You have your place in the scriptures as well! You also Flow out of mythology Into our minds O the mighty Shiva Took you In his mighty curls Of hair To allay your spirit As you descended Onto the Earth To purge peoples Lives The Bhagiratha's Penance you saw then He got back his wish Thousand brothers They say O you but still see The Kumbh Mela(fair) So many souls You see the serenity Of Varanasi The beautiful spirituality Of its Ghats O young wrestlers Massaging before The day's fight Alongside Seers in Deep meditation On your banks O you have settled This city You flow across Patna The ancient Pataliputra Seen many imperial Rise and falls History echoes in you You enter Bengal The fertile Gangetic plains Bear testimony To your gifts With their lush green And swaying fields The Farakka barrage Sees you in one of your Giant avatars You irrigate And touch people! You flow as the Padma in Bangladesh O you know Two lands separated By political shadows You flow As Bhagirathi Hooghly In Bengal The rice bowl! O your Ilish(Hilda) People do relish You flow graciously Through Flat extensive plains Past Kolkata The city of joy And into the sea At Gangasagar Taking with you So many memories And promising The continuity Of your divine Grace O dear river, You are Ganga!
0
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 6:57 AM UTC
amit-narayan-satpathy
A river
O Ganga! You flow Across the mighty Mountains O your youthful Playful force Making its way Through the Ancient boulders Stream after stream Joins you To find its destiny Happily In your depths To make you O the vast Ganga we know The Aryans found their Abode on your banks You saw the rise of Jainism And Buddhism O civilization Not only flourished But flowered On your banks! You've seen it all! You travel down the Tehri dam Across Rishikesh And Haridwar From the cow's mouth O the Gomukh Where your mother Glacier Gangotri rests! You enter the plains Having crisscrossed Roads many And lives Of many a being Who consider you As mother Worship you You bear their brunt also Carrying heaps of Garbage You flow Kanpur You see tanneries And many more You nourish them Keep them running But they end up Slowing your run You reach Allahabad What's in a name A tryst of cultures O you have the Gangs Jamuni doab And Gangs jamuni tehzeeb! Your sisters join you And here at Prayag You have Yamuna with you O a mythical sister Saraswati does find here way to you They say Life goes on on your ghats As usual People washing clothes Themselves And people offering Flowers and performing Rituals on your banks O all but consider you As an earthly mother A heavenly gift Just like Saraswati You have your place in the scriptures as well! You also Flow out of mythology Into our minds O the mighty Shiva Took you In his mighty curls Of hair To allay your spirit As you descended Onto the Earth To purge peoples Lives The Bhagiratha's Penance you saw then He got back his wish Thousand brothers They say O you but still see The Kumbh Mela(fair) So many souls You see the serenity Of Varanasi The beautiful spirituality Of its Ghats O young wrestlers Massaging before The day's fight Alongside Seers in Deep meditation On your banks O you have settled This city You flow across Patna The ancient Pataliputra Seen many imperial Rise and falls History echoes in you You enter Bengal The fertile Gangetic plains Bear testimony To your gifts With their lush green And swaying fields The Farakka barrage Sees you in one of your Giant avatars You irrigate And touch people! You flow as the Padma in Bangladesh O you know Two lands separated By political shadows You flow As Bhagirathi Hooghly In Bengal The rice bowl! O your Ilish(Hilda) People do relish You flow graciously Through Flat extensive plains Past Kolkata The city of joy And into the sea At Gangasagar Taking with you So many memories And promising The continuity Of your divine Grace O dear river, You are Ganga!
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154
I am from a rooftop garden That smell like fresh guavas And hard, wired fences Behind which lies a foggy skyline A dreaming city I am from a small, brown-red backyard shed Tucked between rural green fields Where two little girls defended the world from evil by Laughing and swinging wildly on a rusted, fluorescent swing set I am from a row of townhouses Where no matter how late the return Warm lights inside glow Beckoning I am from strong rocks Against which foamy, icy waves crash Leaving behind grass Soft to touch And hard to uproot I am from eating overdone fried chicken From short-lived patience From a voicemail That will always say From Lucy, Tulu and Samah From don’t eat that, it’s for the guests And if you have to do it, do it, but I don’t want to hear about it. From too many whys And not enough faith I am from Dhaka, Bangladesh From jostling crowds and hearing a million voices outside I am from Limerick, Ireland. From rustic houses and quaint parishes I am from Wallingford, Pennsylvania From suburbia and inane boredom From the college-genius who crashed weddings on weekends, The woman who is still unimpressed by sushi in Japan I am from feeling sad if you do But wanting to make you laugh anyway
0
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 6:11 PM UTC
nuha-fariha
Home
I am from a rooftop garden That smell like fresh guavas And hard, wired fences Behind which lies a foggy skyline A dreaming city I am from a small, brown-red backyard shed Tucked between rural green fields Where two little girls defended the world from evil by Laughing and swinging wildly on a rusted, fluorescent swing set I am from a row of townhouses Where no matter how late the return Warm lights inside glow Beckoning I am from strong rocks Against which foamy, icy waves crash Leaving behind grass Soft to touch And hard to uproot I am from eating overdone fried chicken From short-lived patience From a voicemail That will always say From Lucy, Tulu and Samah From don’t eat that, it’s for the guests And if you have to do it, do it, but I don’t want to hear about it. From too many whys And not enough faith I am from Dhaka, Bangladesh From jostling crowds and hearing a million voices outside I am from Limerick, Ireland. From rustic houses and quaint parishes I am from Wallingford, Pennsylvania From suburbia and inane boredom From the college-genius who crashed weddings on weekends, The woman who is still unimpressed by sushi in Japan I am from feeling sad if you do But wanting to make you laugh anyway
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37
I did not die in the country I was born in. I died much, much later; had my American ashes scattered all over Bangladesh; traversed it's many vessels of water. I swam the Brahmaputra River, floated upon the skin of The Ganga; the half-naked children waved and I couldn't tell if they were saying hello or goodbye; but those waves spread until I was far out into the sea. I was forgotten as swiftly as I was welcomed; and was loved as easily as was I avoided. I looked back on my American life with discontent. I saw nothing but tangled knots of thought laced with consumption, and accumulation; self-interest and seclusion; even sadness was commodified. The discontent was the push and pull of a rope tied to my soul. I died before I ever left; but discovered another self on foreign soil It wasn't till I had aged beyond the average life span for someone like me in America; did I realize, I wasted all this time, dependent on what others thought of me; what they expected of me; and what they considered was best for me. I was forever exiled from darkness; but at least I got a little sun in Bangladesh.
0
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 2:40 AM UTC
afinitecreature
Hakeem
I did not die in the country I was born in. I died much, much later; had my American ashes scattered all over Bangladesh; traversed it's many vessels of water. I swam the Brahmaputra River, floated upon the skin of The Ganga; the half-naked children waved and I couldn't tell if they were saying hello or goodbye; but those waves spread until I was far out into the sea. I was forgotten as swiftly as I was welcomed; and was loved as easily as was I avoided. I looked back on my American life with discontent. I saw nothing but tangled knots of thought laced with consumption, and accumulation; self-interest and seclusion; even sadness was commodified. The discontent was the push and pull of a rope tied to my soul. I died before I ever left; but discovered another self on foreign soil It wasn't till I had aged beyond the average life span for someone like me in America; did I realize, I wasted all this time, dependent on what others thought of me; what they expected of me; and what they considered was best for me. I was forever exiled from darkness; but at least I got a little sun in Bangladesh.
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42
The Pension Debt of New York City rivals the Gross Domestic Product of Bangladesh, at #59 in the world of Nations!
0
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 4:38 PM UTC
Anubis-the-Philosomancer
Pension Debt of some U.S. Cities rivals some Countries' GDPs
The Pension Debt of New York City rivals the Gross Domestic Product of Bangladesh, at #59 in the world of Nations!
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3
Trust is the rarest attribute For the critical being with the narrow sky; It's not situation demanded for the thinnest biological attraction! Love is the red dahlia Blooms in the cool merry garden; It's not the market rated vegetables could be consumed daily on payment! Poem 25 Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007 Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh ISBN 984-8700-82-X
0
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 12:43 PM UTC
ashraful-musaddeq
[01] Message
Trust is the rarest attribute For the critical being with the narrow sky; It's not situation demanded for the thinnest biological attraction! Love is the red dahlia Blooms in the cool merry garden; It's not the market rated vegetables could be consumed daily on payment! Poem 25 Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007 Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh ISBN 984-8700-82-X
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13
It is to be remembered that for all our diversity, the white lily blooms; even in adversity. All blood is the same and different throughout, all water is the same in storm and in drought. The sand settles over a puddle of rain, and rain over concrete will do the same. A novelist is a creator in all written word; A musician is an artist in all music heard.
0
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 7:00 AM UTC
hanxwatson
Bangladesh
It is to be remembered that for all our diversity, the white lily blooms; even in adversity. All blood is the same and different throughout, all water is the same in storm and in drought. The sand settles over a puddle of rain, and rain over concrete will do the same. A novelist is a creator in all written word; A musician is an artist in all music heard.
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8
In a new world shop branded That boasts of good standards Stacks of clothes folded Nicely matching the standards The label proudly gloat Of the owners wealthy abode In tiny print it is shone The country where it's born China, Vietnam, Bangladesh, India and my own Lands where brands aren't a priced norm The hands that stitched them never know That she is paid less than the branded piece you own
0
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 8:15 AM UTC
CreativeCirclePoetry
Branded
In a new world shop branded That boasts of good standards Stacks of clothes folded Nicely matching the standards The label proudly gloat Of the owners wealthy abode In tiny print it is shone The country where it's born China, Vietnam, Bangladesh, India and my own Lands where brands aren't a priced norm The hands that stitched them never know That she is paid less than the branded piece you own
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16
Who is walking at orange-noon? Is a person, a living bonsai or a tiny moon putting on master color dress? Old sky is sending soft melodies A smoothening smell of perfume is following behind As a delighted pet shaking soft tail. I'm moving on and on keeping zero distance Entering silently into the core zone of a person As a laser ray like an invisible ghost! Poem 14 Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007 Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh ISBN 984-8700-82-X
0
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 8:08 AM UTC
ashraful-musaddeq
[01] Enter
Who is walking at orange-noon? Is a person, a living bonsai or a tiny moon putting on master color dress? Old sky is sending soft melodies A smoothening smell of perfume is following behind As a delighted pet shaking soft tail. I'm moving on and on keeping zero distance Entering silently into the core zone of a person As a laser ray like an invisible ghost! Poem 14 Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007 Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh ISBN 984-8700-82-X
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16